


Not just a social call.

by Readingfanfics



Series: Prompts [66]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Insecurity, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: "Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is No."“Who says I want to ask you something?”“You're not exactly known for your social visits, Sherlock.”





	Not just a social call.

**\--Not just a social call.--**

**"Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is No."**

“Who says I want to ask you something?”

“You're not exactly known for your social visits, Sherlock.” Greg sighs as Sherlock just walks past him into his flat, ignoring Greg's protests as he takes off his coat and flops down on the sofa, crossing his long legs and acting like he's at home.

He still doesn't know how he ended up being friends with Sherlock but tonight, he's really not in the mood for one of his weird requests and he closes the door of his flat with a bit more force then is necessary.

“You're irritated. Why?”

He runs a hand through his hair, ignoring Sherlock's question as he goes to the kitchen to grab two beers. He offers one to Sherlock, surprised when the man takes it and sits down on the other sofa. His tv is playing a detective show and he can't stop a smirk when Sherlock watches it for a moment, rolling his eyes every few seconds.

“Blood doesn't splatter like that. And what he's doing would certainly kill the victim. Seriously, why do you watch this?” Sherlock scoffs and Greg shrugs a shoulder before drinking his beer.

“I just like it. Helps me forget about the workday.”

“How can watching a police show help you forget about your work?” Sherlock looks at him like he's stupid and Greg lets out another sigh, feeling even more tired than before the man came in.

“It's easy,” Greg says, his voice low and he gestures towards the screen when Sherlock raises an eyebrow in question. “They have a crime and 45 minutes later, it's solved and the perpetrator is caught and in jail. I just, I don't know...” He stops, not sure how to further explain but Sherlock nods after a while, sipping his beer and Greg relaxes as the silence goes on.

“Why are you here?”

“Can't I just be here because I like the company?”

“No.” Greg shakes his head when he sees the beginning pout on Sherlock's lips. Their friendship is a strange one, mostly related to Greg's work and Sherlock's interest in all things crime. He's not even sure if the man sees him as a friend or just an easy way to get access to crime scenes and therefore knowledge. In the year and a half, they've known each other Sherlock has been at Greg's flat maybe 5 times, always asking Greg for something. Either a case file to go through, a body to examine, or something else, but never just for his company. Most days it doesn't bother Greg but today he feels restless, irritated and tired, all thanks to a very complicated and draining case.

“Fine. I need to talk to Francis Morrison again.” Sherlock says, his eyes sparkling and Greg tries to ignore the tiny spark of disappointment. Of course, the man is here about work. What else?

“I already told you, Morrison is refusing to talk to anyone at this point. Even her own children.”

“But I need to ask her about the poison, it's the only way-”

“Sherlock!” Greg holds up his hands as Sherlock stands up and starts pacing the floor. The energy in the room has intensified and just seeing the man walk back and forth in his flat is setting Greg's teeth on edge. He can understand Sherlock's frustration and impatience. Morrison is refusing any cooperation or help, but Greg can't change the situation and Sherlock making a fuss, in his home, is not helping his mood at all.

“It's out of my hands, Sherlock. If the woman doesn't want to talk, there is nothing I can do.”

“So we just let whoever killed her husband get away with it?!” Sherlock calls out, hands up in the air before he stalks over the Greg and looms above him, his face set.

“She's hiding something and we both know it, Lestrade. You need to let me see her, I can get her to talk!”

“Sherlock.” This time he can't even raise his voice, energy drained from him and Sherlock frowns, tilting his head to take in Greg more closely.

“What happened? Is this to do with the other case?”

“It's just been a rough week, Sherlock. I know it never gets to you, but for others-”

“It gets to me.” Sherlock cuts him off and something in the man's voice makes Greg look up, his heart skipping a beat when he sees the glimmer of anger in it.

“Sherlock, I-”

“Just because I don't always show my feelings, doesn't mean I don't have them.” Sherlock turns and Greg's afraid the man will walk away angry but before he can get up and stop him, Sherlock sits back down on the sofa, crossing his arms.

“I'm not some heartless freak, Lestrade. No matter how much people like to think I am.”

“I didn't mean it like that, Sherlock. I- 'm sorry.” Greg swallows, feeling like a bastard for his comment as Sherlock just shakes his head, taking the bottle of beer and pulling a face when he notices it's empty. Greg gets up, raising an eyebrow in question and going to the kitchen for a refill after Sherlock's nodded his head. The detective show on the tv is over and Greg takes the remote to shut off the tv. He doesn't watch it a lot, feeling like these days quantity is more important than quality and instead turns on the radio, just loud enough to hear in the background.

“That's why I like that show,” Greg starts, gesturing towards the tv with his beer bottle before sitting next to Sherlock on the sofa. “There's never a situation where the perpetrator gets off with a slap on the wrist.”

“You mean-”

“Yeah, they got him out on a technicality.” Greg grits his teeth, holding his bottle tightly as the anger races through him, temporarily making him forget his tiredness. “Should have seen that bastards smug face. Dammit!” He winces at the sound of the bottle hitting the table, a small amount of beer spilling out and forming a puddle.

“I'm sorry, Lestrade.”

“Me too. How, Sherlock?” Greg turns, hearing how fragile his voice sounds. “How can this be possible? We went over everything by the book! I made sure of it! How can that monster be out?! I just, Aggrr!”

He pulls his hair in frustration, wanting to throw something against the wall.

“Stop, Lestrade. You'll only drive yourself crazy, we'll get him next time.”

“Next time someone might be dead.” Greg growls, thinking back on the photos of the victim. It's only a matter of time, he'd seen the rage and frustration in every single bruise. The next woman wouldn't be so lucky.

“Greg.” Sherlock takes his hands and it makes Greg look up in mild shock. He can count the times Sherlock has touched him on one hand and his body is suddenly on fire as Sherlock's thumbs stroke his palms gently.

“We'll get him next time. And then he won't get away, I promise.”

“You shouldn't promise something like that.” Greg whispers, watching how Sherlock's fingers are still on his skin, noticing how warm the man's hands are. He's always had this believe that Sherlock's hands would be cold like ice, because of his pale skin and green-blue eyes. Also the fact that he wears that long, ridiculous coat most of the time, even on sunny days.

“I just did,” Sherlock whispers back, his eyes soft and expression honest and it's only now that he notices the flecks of grey in Sherlock's eyes. He swallows, his eyes taking in Sherlock's features, wanting to drown in the man's eyes and he blinks his eyes, focusing on Sherlock's mouth. The man's lips look lush and soft, the Cupid's bow inviting Greg to lean forward and have a taste.

It's only when he feels Sherlock's hand in his hair that he realizes he's actually leaned forward to kiss the man and he pulls back, ashamed for his behavior and fearsome of Sherlock's reaction.

“I- god, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“Greg.” Sherlock places a finger on his mouth, shaking his head when Greg tries to say something again. “It's okay. It's been a rough week like you said and people have a lap in judgment when they are tired. It's fine.”

There's a sadness in Sherlock's smile as he removes his finger and gets up, taking his coat were he's drapped it over the sofa.

“I won't hold it against you but I should probably go. Enjoy your weekend.”

“Wait!” Greg is just in time to stop Sherlock from opening the door, seeing the surprised reaction on the man's face when he steps between the man and the door.

“Don't leave.”

“Lestrade, I don't think-”

“Stop thinking.” Greg interrupts, taking Sherlock's hand in his, relieved when the man doesn't pull back. “I. Kissing you, it's not a lapse in judgment, Sherlock.”

“But you're-”

“Tired?” Greg smiles, though the confusion and disbelief on Sherlock's face breaks his heart. He raches out his other hand, stroking the man's cheek and he almost dies on the spot when Sherlock closses his eyes, leaning into it and placing a half kiss on Greg's palm.

“I'm not tired now. Kiss me, Sherlock.” Greg whispered, cupping Sherlock's cheek, his smile going wider as the man blinks his eyes rapidly, opening and closes his mouth before swallowing.

“If you want to, of course.” Greg's about to step away, afraid he's made a huge mistake when Sherlock comes forward, pressing his body against Greg's and pushing him firmly against the door, his mouth on Greg's lips, confident and demanding.

Greg's world stops as he opens his mouth, letting Sherlock in and he lets out a moan when their tongues meet, the taste of beer mixing with Sherlock's taste. Sherlock's hands are cupping his face and Greg wraps his arms around the man's waist, trying to get them closer, letting out another sound as Sherlock's beginning erection brushes against him. He let's one hand slip up and brush through Sherlock's curls, surprised by how soft it feels. Sherlock let's out a sound that's close to a cat purring and he gently pulls the man's hair again, not able to stop a smile as it earns him another sound.

“Bedroom?” Greg whispers near Sherlock's ear when they break off the kiss, both needing air. He can feel Sherlock's warm breath on his neck, Sherlock's hands squeezing his biceps before nodding. Greg's heart skips a beat, taking Sherlock's hand and walking to the bedroom, buzzing with anticipation and a hint of fear. It's been a while since he's had anyone in his bed, let alone someone like Sherlock, who's as beautiful as a Greek God and a few years younger than him.

“Stop worrying.” Sherlock wraps his arms around Greg's waist as Greg closes the door, needing a second to find his courage before he turns around. When he does, Sherlock gives him a warm smile, eyes going up and down Greg's body before his hands follow the movement and it takes Greg's breathe away.

“Sherlock.” He's not sure what he wants to say, even _if_ he planned to say anything but Sherlock stops him with another deep kiss, making it clear to Greg that the man does want this, wants him. He lets Sherlock press him back against his door, liking how he's closed off from the world by Sherlock's body, the man placing kisses everywhere he can reach.

“I want- Can I?” Sherlock leans back and Greg blinks, not understand why they stopped kissing, his mouth already missing Sherlock's when Sherlock smirks, raising an eyebrow and tapping Greg's chest with his fingers.

“I'd like to undress you now.”

“Oh.” Greg's face flames up, seeing the amusement in Sherlock's eyes as he nods his head like a lunatic, sucking in his stomach when Sherlock slides off the grey shirt. It's intimidating, Sherlock's observant eyes on him, taking in every little imperfection but then Sherlock drops to his knees and Greg's sure he's going to pass out in that very moment.

“You're gorgeous.” Sherlock whispers, opening up Greg's belt and zipper, the sound sounding unnaturally loud in his bedroom and Greg breathes out loudly, placing his hands on Sherlock's shoulders as the man pulls down his pants and underwear.

“Sh-Sherlock?”

“Don't.” Sherlock looks up through his lashes, his face a soft pink, hands on Greg's thighs and Greg's sure he's not going to forget this moment.

Before he can say anything Sherlock's warm breathe is on his cock and his mind crashes down as Sherlock starts licking the head of it, taking his time, making it hard to breathe as Sherlock's tongue teases the slit, exploring every inch, every vain before taking it inside his mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” He bites his lip, afraid he's going to draw blood as Sherlock bobs his head up and down, making tiny noises of pleasure when Greg grabs hold of his hair, pulling it as his knees start to tremble.

“Sher- Sherlock, I don't- Stop!” Sherlock instantly pulls back and Greg's cock twitches in the air, screaming for more. He breathes in and out, letting Sherlock lead him to his bed and sitting down on it, watching as the man strips in front of him, showing off his glorious body.

“Fuck.” Greg breathes out, hands already pulling Sherlock closes and Sherlock actually giggles when Greg pins him down on the mattress, kissing him hard and needy.

“You're so fucking gorgeous, fucking hell.”

“Didn't know you had such a bad mouth on you, Lestrade. Oh!” Greg can't stop a smirk when Sherlock's head falls back, licking the man's nipple again before rubbing his cock against Sherlock's leg.

“God, you're going to drive me crazy.” Greg whispers, making Sherlock moan out loud as he sucks the man's nipples, hands stroking everywhere he can reach. He crawls up Sherlock's body, needing to kiss him again, fingers wrapping in Sherlock's hair and pulling it just enough so he can get to Sherlock's neck, placing tiny kisses on the delicate skin there, feeling Sherlock move underneath him, their erections pressing together.

“N-need, oh-” Sherlock cuts off his sentence as Greg licks a line from his neck to just above his bellybutton, seeing the goosebumps form on his skin. Meeting Sherlock's wide, dilated eyes set Greg on fire and he strokes his cock ones, needing to take the edge off.

“I don't know if I'll be able to- I-”

“It's fine,” Sherlock leans up on his elbow, eyes wide and dark, face flushed with red-kissed lips, his curls in a mess and it's almost enough to have Greg come then and there. He wants to fuck Sherlock, be inside the man and claim him but his body is too impatient. He strokes Sherlock's sides, fingers brushing over a small scar on his left side and Sherlock let's out a wanton sound.

“Just, just touch me, Greg. Please!”

“Oh, I have no problem with that.” Greg smirks and then he does a Sherlock asks, going over every inch of the man's skin, taking his time to kiss, to lick and caress. The breathless sounds coming out of Sherlock's mouth just urge him on, finally getting to the man's cock and the scream when he takes Sherlock into his mouth makes him proud, for a ridiculous second wanting to pound his chest.

“G-Greg, oh, I-Oh, just like that.”

Sherlock's hands are on his head, adding pressure and Greg breathes in and out through his nose, trying to go deeper, swallowing around the man's cock, his nails digging into Sherlock's skin as he feels Sherlock's cock pulse. He's able to swallow most of Sherlock's release, head hurting just a bit from how hard Sherlock pulled his hair but it's all worth it when he slowly pulls back, seeing the hard rise and fall of Sherlock's sweaty chest, nipple standing up and Greg can't resist licking them.

“Greg.” Sherlock raises his head, asking for a kiss and Greg leans in, hearing Sherlock moan when their tongues meet. “Let me finish what I started.” Sherlock turns Greg onto his back and his body jolts when Sherlock goes down, taking his cock in hand and pumping it firmly, his eyes on Greg's face the whole time.

“F-fuck, oh, Sunshine, yes! F-faster!”

He comes with a scream when Sherlock wraps his mouth around his cockhead, coming inside the man's mouth, his body trembling as hormones races inside him. His heart is beating fast when Sherlock lies down next to him, licking his lips before placing a kiss on Greg's.

“That was amazing.”

“Was it?” Greg whispers before he can stop himself, feeling Sherlock lean on his elbow to look at him, a tiny frown beginning to form.

“You didn't enj-”

“Yes!” Greg cuts him off, sitting up himself, body shaking from the cooling sweat on his body and he gestures to Sherlock to move so he can pull the covers up.

“I did enjoy it, I just thought... Maybe you expected more?” Greg feels his face flame up as he utters the words, looking from Sherlock's face to the blankets and back.

“Don't be an idiot, Lestrade. It doesn't suit you.” Sherlock's tone is fond, his expression gentle and Greg shakes his head, a beginning smile as he leans forward to kiss this amazing man.

“We should clean up before I fall asleep.”

“Did I wear you out, old man?”

“Oi!” Sherlock laughs when Greg pokes him and it's the most amazing sound he's heard all week.

“Stay?” He asks after they've cleaned up, Greg patting the spot next to him. He can't help but be relieved when Sherlock climbs in, pulling up the blankets and nestling himself against Greg's side. He wants to stay up long enough to watch Sherlock sleep, hear the sound of his breathing, see him relaxed and happy, but the moment Sherlock closes the nightlight next to him, he falls asleep, feeling Sherlock warm against his side.

The horrible week has a good ending after all.

The End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed and see you soon!


End file.
